Last day of love
by Vain x Life Poetess
Summary: May 19th the day the world as we know it died with one blow from the executioner's sword to our Lady of England's nekc.


**Disclaimer: I don't own the Tudors that would make a multi millionaire producer and God.**

**I want to clear that I don't believe in good or evil, I believe that our actions define us but those actions are influenced by our own perception of good and evil and our moralistic sense that has been taught to us based on where we come from. Often authors interpret their characters from a twenty first century point of view, and while I respect that I think that history is more than that, to understand history we must see through their eyes. The truth is in the eye of the beholder after all, and the beholder in this case being the people who are subjects of our study …**

**So without further due**

**My Homage to Anne Boleyn, Lady, Marques and thousand day Queen.**

**~Carolina**

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"_Love is the more powerful force in the universe. It can destroy but it can create._

_I believe that in death there is life [but] life though beautiful as you can make it, can also give you death."_ ~**Between amorous pursuit by Anonymous.**

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Once upon a time …

Anne tried to imagine the tale of what her life could have been if she hadn't lost the child that condemned her to this prison.

She had been so happy with Henry, they had been happy everyone at Court regardless of what they said, their rumors and ill wishes were dismissed just by the smile on his face, her husband's face.

She was sorry, sorry of one thing in her life and that was what she said and did to the Lady Mary, in her mind she would always be Lady Mary … because that was the lie she told herself, so many times now that it felt true.

Lady Mary was a bastard, yet it was not her fault of what happened between her parents –or me –she spoke aloud worrying the maids next to her. Their Lady they all thought was on the verge of madness. She would laugh suddenly and throw fits of rage at nothing in particular, something it would be just because the sun didn't hit her face.

The sun, she thought, that big God that had once shined on her head when she had been crowned. Ironically when she had been lodged in these same rooms prior to her Coronation, the sun had shined on her and it all had seemed like the world would bow at her feet –alas what a dreamer she was … what a dreamer we all were to fall prey to love.

Love …

It was the sentiment that landed her here. What started as game of cat and mouse imposed on her by her father and cunning Uncle turned to something else –she found herself falling for the King of England and hitting rock bottom when she became his Queen she believed that there would be no other woman in his heart besides her.

What a fool she had been!

We are fools in love sister –she heard the voice of her sister, Mary –another Mary her father had ruined. She married for love too, a man below her station and yet Anne had agreed with her father to dismiss her. Why was it? Was it because Mary was going to give William Stafford what she could not give her husband – a son, a living son?

She didn't give William a son, it resulted into a daughter, so her dismissal from Court was for nothing, her whole point at envying her sister, taking revenge on her for thinking she could give what she –as Queen of England and an Omnipresent figure- could not give the King resulted pointless.

Many regrets, yet many things she had achieved.

No other woman in England had achieved what she had. She had become Marques of Pembroke, not Marchioness, not a wife tied to a husband's title but Marques of Pembroke! She had become Royal on her own account, she had made her family blossom as the most powerful family in England –was anyways, now with her death her family's name would be nothing more than a black stain on English history.

She suddenly worried about Elizabeth.

What would be of Elizabeth, her poor Elizabeth the true Princess of England.

The throne should be of hers! She was the rightful heir, everything Anne did before and after Elizabeth had been only for her, and for that reason only –as Master Kingston came telling her the hour had come –she would not curse her father, on the contrary she would tell England to pray for the King's soul and for her.

"Good Christian people …" she began after she reached the courtyard. So many familiar faces that had once bowed in respect, were now bowing once again as she said "pray for me" but not out of respect, but pity. Even the Duke of Suffolk, once her enemy now another sympathizer to pity her, knelt before her along with his son Lord Henry Brandon.

Archbishop Cranmer was the first to kneel and it surprised me he did the sign of the cross. He was after all a man of the true religion of Christ, why would he do the sign of paganism? I could not understand yet I did not judge, for no one can judge a man –or a woman's- soul but God, and as I said, taking my leave off the world only One can judge me and that is the Lord Jesus Christ in the Highest Court of all –Heaven.

I tightened the coif tucking in all the loose hairs.

Finally the executioner kneels as I do "Will you forgive me?" He asks

And I say "Gladly" and then as they all begin to pray for my Immortal soul I begin to watch black crows, oh the irony in that as my head later turns to watch the Duke of Suffolk and his child little Henry. He looks curiously at me with his big blue eyes, his uncle's eyes and I am suddenly reminded of a time when none of this was real, when I was still a dreamer.

Long, long time ago there was a little girl not yet a Princess, there was a boy who was still not a King but a Prince full of dreams, and there was a world full of adventures where anything was possible … that world with the blow of a sword to Anne's neck was now gone.

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**A/N: Something so we do not forget our history.**

**My grandfather once said that humankind was a monster, but that in history –it does not serve to the purpose of learning of our mistake but seeing that anything was possible, after all said –all those things those people said were once said impossible and they made them possible … so what is not to stop authors or as individuals to do the unthinkable. **

**Fame favors the bold a quote from one of my favorite poets and authors –Virgil in his masterpiece the Enid.**


End file.
